Shadows of a Flower
by Promathia
Summary: Aishi's life was a tragic tale of love, betrayal, death, and conflict. Never was her story fully told. Never... Until now.


**Disclaimer: I don't own _Jade Empire _or any of the companies that made it.**

Hello. I'm Abbot Song; this is actually my very first _Jade Empire _fic. Basically, it's the tragic tale of Aishi the Mournful Blade, the subject of the final bounty quest in the Imperial City. This was inspired by her tale, which is only half-told. I decided I'd make it my responsibility to tell it in its entirety, from when it all began to when it ends. This is her story.

* * *

It was cold. Very cold. The type of cold that chills the very blood, sending needles of ice tumbling down your bones and making you feel as if you had been stuffed with the coldest snow in all the Empire. The type of cold that made you wish that you were in front of some place, any place, that was warmer than where you were standing, and made your mind fill with dreams of restoring flame and warmth... And yet, it was this unbearable cold that was what Aishi always felt as she awoke to face the new day. And, as always, the next thoughts to cross her mind was whether or not this day was worth living, and whether or not she'd make it to the greyest of twilights.

Her room was never warm. She'd never considered any part of it close to her, even though she spent all of her nights tucked in the dirty straw cot in the furthest corner of the room. The dirt floor was speckled with patches of withered grass, brown with rot and lack of moisture and sunlight. A stone basin rested across the room from her, its rippling surface glistening like liquid crystal. She took a deep breath, allowing the frosty air to enter her lungs. She inhaled the scent of raw, cold earth and mold, stood up from her cot, and strode towards the basin at the opposite end of the room. It didn't take more than a couple of paces to reach it.

When there, she lowered her hands and scooped a handful. The water rippled noiselessly as she did so. She splashed it against her face, feeling the warmthless tingling sensation as the liquid evaporated against her skin. Wringing her hands free of the moisture, Aishi peered forward to stare into the water. A bleak reflection gazed up at her--a young girl of pale complexion, with taut, solemn lips and eyes mirroring an untold sadness. A cascade of black hair ran down to rest on her shoulders, seemingly grey with age. Her hands were rough with calluses and marks of work and toil. Several scars on her neck and backside showed that she was no dainty handmaiden of the court.

She stared down at the homely garb that covered her. She wore a baggy white shirt, soiled and worn, and a leather vest beaten soft by age and wear. Her leggings were a maze of punctures and cut threads, although amazingly very little of the skin beneath could be seen. She preferred it that way. Her eyes wandered to her mud-crusted boots at the door, and tried to think of why she still lingered in the world when all else seemed pointless. All that she loved... was gone. She cleared her mind of all thoughts as she slipped into her furs, thick with the chill of the previous night.

Oh, how she hated this room. It was a poorly crafted hovel of ruddy pine and rotted wood; mold and mildew teemed where she could not see and filled the room with an acrid, pungent smell. There were several openings in the roof in which bleak, cold sunlight filtered in, as did rain, snow, and cold. Aishi had long since made herself immune to the effects of the cold; she no longer shivered or shook when she left the room, when that first gust of chilling air swept through her hair and down into her lungs. It was almost as if the cold ignored her body and seeped into her heart, which was just as icy and ruthless as winter itself.

Slipping into her boots, Aishi pushed the door open and stepped out into the bitter cold and warmthless sunshine. Whatever heat or comfort her shoddy hut contained was gone from this air, the essence of winter itself. Nearby, villagers clustered around a crackling orange fire, huddling together for warmth. Some were talking in low whispers. Aishi had no intention to join them; she never did and never felt she would. They were not important to her. Perhaps they were to her father, but certainly not for her. She was different from them. She did not depend upon another; she had everything she needed by her lonesome.

A fresh wind battered her face, driving a nail of cold into whatever warmth she contained. She loosed a misty breath as this occured, trying not to think of the cold and all the hazards entitled to it. She reached into the depths of her furs, bringing forth two leather gloves covered with broken threads. She didn't care. She slipped them on anyways, trying not to wonder how long she'd last in this unforgiving world of misery and despair...

"Good morning, Aishi."

The voice was low and soft, like a dove in the zenith of night. Aishi turned to face who had spoken, a man of considerable age burdened by heavy furs and clutching a staff of gnarled wood. The man had a long, wispy beard that fell fluidly from his chin down to nearly his waist, and two eyes that seemed heavy with emotions unknown. His unkempt hair blew idly in a passing wind; his face was lined with heavy wrinkles. Aishi stared at him in silence, wishing to remain without words.

"I can't say today is much brighter than any other day," the man mentioned, pointing skywards. Dull grey clouds swirled slowly overhead, as if being stirred by some godly ladle. Aishi remained silent and unblinking. "Although I have a feeling today will be important. Yes, yes... Very important. Do you know of what I feel?"

Aishi stared at him emotionlessly for several moments. "No, Elder Zhi," she said, her gentle soprano voice barely above a whisper.

Elder Zhi's face creased with the most subtle of grins. "Very well, Aishi." With that, the wizened man walked off, digging into the moist earth with his staff. Aishi did not speak a single word.

* * *

_"Father? Father!"_

_The young child bent, weeping, over her father's motionless form. The body did not stir; the grey hair blew silently in the wind, but the body itself remained unmoving. Wise brown eyes, once sparkling with life, now lay dull and clouded--like a sunny sky blemished with storm clouds. His clothing, still heavy with his scent--a mixture of earth, sweat, and pure joy--remained on his lifeless frame. The girl clutched it in a tightened fist, horrified at the reality that was taking place._

_Her father, the only one she had, was dead._

_The girl could not bring herself to realize what had happened until it was too late. By the time she had acknowledged her father's descent, it was too late. By the time she found him, he was dead. His heart did not beat; his blood did not stir; his eyes still remained opened. His lips were parted in an unfinished gasp, and his eyebrows were arched as if he had been frozen in shock. And yet, she knew he was dead since the moment she heard his cry; she knew that there was no hope for her father._

_And she could do nothing for him but lay over his corpse and weep, weep for the future that had been crushed like a beetle beneath the heel of some higher being. Her life--all that had passed, was passing, and would pass--shattered into oblivion._

_Her father was dead._

* * *

"Hello, lovely."

Aishi turned and felt something deep within her furs flutter; she felt excitement replace the chill dread that always hung within her. That voice... There was something about it that reminded her of her father, reminded her of being held close by someone who actually loved her. And for once in what seemed like an eternity of iciness, a small smile parted Aishi's thin, dry lips.

"Sen."

There was no formal greeting between them. It had simple always been: she, Aishi, and he, Sen. Both deeply enwrapped in the most blissful of loves, of sweet romance that set fire to even the coldest of days. All thoughts of doubt and anguish were cleared from her mind, like dirt scraped from the floor of the palace. She felt young, renewed, as if Sen's very voice was the Fountain of Youth, and that her life was miraculously filled with meaning now that he was here.

The two embraced tightly, the moonlight shining down palely upon them. With Sen, her troubles seemed to end. It was as if... There was no more need to worry or care about the needs of her own life, that if she was not tied to the earth by her mortal body she'd float up to the heavens and rest amongst the gods. It was a happiness that was both familiar and unfamiliar to her at the same time, as if it was an emotion that lay buried deep within her, awakened only now by Sen's embrace.

"Sen... I love you."

Aishi reached up, and her lips grazed Sen's. The two village youths locked in a kiss--a kiss that lasted for an eternity and a second all at once. A torrent of burning emotions flooded Aishi's mind; there were so many things she wanted to say, so many things she wanted to do...

And their lips parted.

"I... love you, Aishi."

The words were sincere, and Aishi held Sen all the tighter.

"You're my only reason to be," Aishi whispered into the icy fold of night, closing her eyes to hide the tears that had formed.

And it was true. Without Sen, Aishi's life would be nothing but emptiness; a desolate and miserable existence, one she didn't care to live out to its end.


End file.
